Alright. Here's a little piece of....work....that I wrote yesterday. I'm a dancer, and though not a very good one, a dancer I am. During class...4 classes, 4 hours, right in a row, every week...yesterday I was like 'hey what if I write about dancing...' and during class I was like 'when I get outta here I'm gonna be writing something...I feel some poetry coming on'....and yeah you didn't need to know that it's pretty corny, but...here's the result of that little mind flash...I don't like the title, and I'm really not a fan of any part of it, but eh, it's what I came up with. And I'm too lazy to fix it.

Wounded Satin
You see my bag
it's got my name on it
you see my toes
they're blistered and sore
you see my face
it's smiling with enjoyment
oh why does it puzzle you so?

How is it that something
so uncuruably painful
can bring such joy
to my face?

I wish I could tell you
what it is that compels me
to do it but you see
the truth is I don' tknow
myself

Perhaps it's the beauty
to which I aspire
or maybe in some twisted way
that it's fun
I don't know but all I can say now
is "I'm done"


yeah. really crappy. and cheesy. but meh. I wrote it. there's no taking it back. please comment (not on this one, on the other ones...I like them infinitely better. Particularly "Tastes Like Tofu"; I think I struck something with that one, even though poetically it's not that good....)